Raw
by Sundance Coyote
Summary: Hogsmeade trip, 6th year. Harry, Ron and Hermione find a wounded Death Eater passed out in the snow who has no memory of anything. They keep her in the Room of Requirement while she heals...but Voldemort is coming, because she is his. But maybe she doesn't want to be anybody's anymore and Harry Potter can't help being drawn to this woman he's supposed to hate.
1. Prologue

**A/N: I know I have two other stories going already, but I wanted to get this idea out and see how it would be received because it's been in my mind for awhile. I like Harry/Bellatrix pairings, but there aren't a lot of them out there. Maybe for good reason. Idk we shall see (obvs this isn't connected to my other stories, where Bellatrix is with Voldemort). This is just the little prologue, so the chapters to follow would obviously tell the story of how this came to be :) do you like it?**

 **Prologue** :

 _March 1997_

Harry was trying to pay attention in Defense Against the Dark Arts class, but it was no use. He was thinking about her. Or rather when he could sneak off to see her again.

Snape swooped around the room going on about nonverbal knockback jinxes, but Harry couldn't listen. He knew Snape was an accomplished Legilimens, so he couldn't think about her too much or he'd give their secret away...but whenever he tried to think about another girl...Ginny, Cho, Parvati...even Hermione and Tonks...literally any girl whose face he could implant over hers whenever Snape stared too intently in his direction...it was no use. The woman of his daydreams had curly black hair, russet brown eyes and lips he couldn't stay away from...

He was already spending nights with her whenever he could get on "watch duty"-easy, since Ron had Quidditch practice and Hermione had homework for her additional classes. Sometimes he could sneak off and see her on a free period if Ron was with Lavender and Hermione was in the library, but he feared they were starting to get suspicious.

He'd tried to cut himself off...but just like with the Half-Blood Prince's Potions textbook, he couldn't get enough of her.

The bell rang signaling the end of class and Harry was ready.

"I reckon we should probably use our break to get started on Snape's homework-McGonagall's bound to give us loads," Hermione said briskly. Ron had already been snatched up by Lavender Brown and Harry knew Hermione was purposely trying to look away from them and almost felt bad about leaving her, until he remembered who was waiting for him upstairs.

"Look, Hermione, why don't I meet you in the library? I've left my Transfiguration stuff upstairs in the dormitory and I want to get it now so I don't have to run off right before class." He hoped she wouldn't suggest she'd go up with him.

"I'd say I'd go up with you, but I think I just saw some...rather unsavory company...head up that way, so do you mind if I go on ahead to the library?"

"Fine, perfect," Harry called a little too quickly over his shoulder as he sped off to the seventh floor.

He didn't know how he'd gotten in so deep with someone so evil, and he knew that at some point soon they were going to get caught and their world was going to come crashing down...but maybe it was for the best.

Still, he'd never felt this way about anyone before. Not even Cho Chang. It scared him, of course, but he'd also never felt more excited.


	2. Chapter 1: 19 October

**Chapter 1: 19 October**

~ _5 months earlier~_

 _~Hermione drummed her fingers on the table, her eyes flickering between Ron and Madam Rosmerta over at the bar. The moment Harry drained the last drops in his bottle of firewhiskey she said, "Shall we call it a day and go back to school, then?"~_

Once they'd bundled back into their cloaks, scarves and gloves, they reluctantly stepped out of the warm pub and out into the howling October sleet. Harry's trainers instantly dropped into a puddle of slush and soaked completely through.

"Bloody miserable, should've just stayed up at school," muttered Ron, who stormed on ahead after Hermione.

"Wasn't miserable when you were looking at Madam Rosmerta in that short skirt, was it?" said Hermione with a loud scoff. She stormed ahead, plowing a trail of fresh footprints through the thin coating of snow.

Harry made to catch up, but Ron merely slowed down and rolled his eyes.

"Hermione's gotta chill. I don't know if it's N.E.W.T pressure or what, but she's been biting my head off all week," he said.

"Right," Harry grunted in reply. For one thing, he'd been in detention with Snape all week and for another, he was as frustrated with Ron and Hermione's incessant bickering as ever.

"You okay, mate?"

"Fine, just thinking." Ron raised an eyebrow, but didn't press Harry to answer. Besides, the wind was now whipping their faces with such ferocity it wouldn't have been possible to have a conversation if they wanted to.

Then they heard Hermione scream.

"Hermione!" shouted Ron and the two of them tore off after her. They found her behind Hogsmeade Station, pointing at something unmoving in the snow.

"What is it?"

"It's...it's her…"

"Who?" asked Ron pointedly, but Harry crept closer and was instantly filled with revulsion. He heard her voice inside his head-I killed Sirius Black! I killed Sirius Black! Are you coming to get me?-and felt his buried grief and anger bubble to the surface of his being.

"Bellatrix Lestrange. Alone in Hogsmeade…"

"We've got to tell someone!" said Ron as he drew his wand and pointed it at her.

"No!" spat Harry. "I want to be the one to kill her. She killed Sirius!" He pointed his own wand at her, but she didn't move. "Wait maybe someone got here first...maybe she's already dead."

Hermione frowned and knelt down over the horrible witch's unmoving form. "No...She's breathing...but something's wrong with her...she's injured. How did she get here?"

Harry stared down at Bellatrix. She was curled in a half-moon shape with her back to them and her mess of black hair matted with crusted frost and bits of twigs.

"Who cares, let's turn her in and go get warm," said Ron. Harry nodded in his agreement. As much as he wanted to finish Bellatix himself, killing her while she was unconscious wasn't worth making he and his friends murderers for. There were plenty of Aurors-Lupin and Mad-Eye perhaps especially-who'd be happy to do it after they got all the information they needed out of her.

"Calm down, Ron. She's no threat like this...besides, Dumbledore's out of town til Monday, Harry said," said Hermione. Harry's heart sank. He rarely caught side of the Headmaster as it was and now here they were, with one of the most notorious Death Eaters of all time, dangerously close to the school and he was nowhere to be found. Still, they had to make a decision soon. The weather was getting worse and the longer they stayed out, the more they risked other students finding them and causing chaos over Bellatrix.

"Well, we can take her to McGonagall, then. Or one of the Aurors by the school gates…" said Ron, who pulled his Gryffindor scarf more tightly around his neck as the wind threatened to tug it away. Hermione, however, didn't seem ready to leave any time soon. She crept closer to Bellatrix, kneeled down in the slush beside her and began digging through her school bag.

"She's bleeding pretty badly...I think I've got some dittany in my bag…"

"Hermione! You can't be serious! You know who she is-you know what she is!" Harry said exasperatedly, but still, he took a few steps closer and glanced down at the side of Bellatrix that was facing away from them. She had a black cloak shrouded around her, but he could still make out a deep slash between her neck and chest, like she'd been cut with a large knife. Blood poured from the wound and pooled around her face, staining the already dirty mix of mud and snow with an unnerving rust-colored hue. Hermione pulled a little crystal phial with a cork stopper out of her bag and let a few drops of its clear, green-tinged contents fall onto Bellatrix's cut.

"I know," she said. "But I just don't think we should do anything rash until we've got all the facts...whoever did this to her could still be around…"

"Whoever did this to her is on our side," muttered Ron darkly. Hermione rolled her eyes at him again.

"Not necessarily, Ronald, but naturally you know everything.."

Harry sighed and tried to mentally prepare himself for another week of their bickering. Suddenly, he heard a faint cry that extended into a full moan.

"Shut up, both of you! I think she's waking up!" He exclaimed and Bellatrix did indeed stir. She rolled over and faced them, tried to sit up, winced sharply and then collapsed back down.

All the while, he, Ron and Hermione stood frozen in place.

"Where...where am I?" They looked at each other, exchanging anxious glances, none of them wanting to answer her.

"What do you reckon…" muttered Ron. Harry didn't buy into Bellatrix's feigned confusion for a second.

"She's playing us, she's putting us on…" he said, but Hermione shook her head.

"I don't think she is...B...Bellatrix...are you okay?" She pushed Bellatrix's hair out of the way and put a few more drops of the dittany on her neck, causing the Death Eater to wince in pain.

"You know Ron, I used to disagree with you whenever you said Hermione had gone mental, but this…" Harry trailed off when Bellatrix looked directly at him.

"Please...everything hurts and I don't know where I am," she whispered with such desperation that he had to admit there was something a little off about her. Her eyes looked glassy and glazed over, milky silver where he knew Bellatrix's eyes to be dark brown. He shot a questioning glance at Hermione.

"I know a memory charm when I see one," she said slowly. "I've read all about them. See the way her eyes look cloudy like that and her expression is completely vacant even though we know she's bound to be in pain? Someone put a memory charm on her. A powerful one. And recently. We can't turn her in like this...she doesn't know any of the horrible things that she's done…"

"But why would someone put a memory charm on her?"

"Honestly Ron, it's not that complicated. Obviously someone thought she knew something she shouldn't," said Hermione crassly. Harry frowned while Bellatrix continued to stare intently at them from her position on the ground, taking in everything that they were saying.

"Then why not just kill her? The Death Eaters haven't exactly been known for their compassion, even with their own," he said, but Hermione had an answer for that, too.

"Maybe they cared too much about her to go that far. Maybe it was her husband? Or one of the Malfoys? They're her blood family…"

"But why would they want to curse Bellatrix?" said Ron. "She's on their side..isn't she?"

They all looked at each other. Was it possible she could have shown even a hint of remorse? Was that why the Death Eaters had done this to her? Could she have been like Sirius, falsely accused of the crime she was imprisoned for all along? No. She killed him, right before his eyes, he saw it...yet the woman lying on the ground in front of them didn't look like someone who'd ever killed or tortured anyone.

"I know what you're thinking Harry," said Hermione, meeting his eye. "And you're right, we can't just kill her or turn her in until we know the truth."

"Well now we've found her, we can't just leave her here," said Ron, raising his voice above the now fiercely howling wind.

" I know," said Hermione. "We'll have to get her up to the castle."

"Are you MAD, Hermione?!"

"Possibly…" she admitted. "But it's all we really can do. We can give her over to Dumbledore on Monday, but until then, we don't want to worry everyone, but we can't let her go...and this could be our last chance to get information out of her. She was very close to you-know-who, and after the teachers and Aurors take over, we won't be able to get near her...plus it's a little sad don't you think? Seeing her like this."

"Pathetic, more like," said Ron, but Harry had to admit she had a point. Even still, he couldn't see how they could in any way safely pull it off.

"Sure, that'll work," he said sarcastically. "Let's waltz Azkaban Escapee Bellatrix Lestrange straight up to Hogwarts, past Filch and his secrecy sensors, past all the Aurors and hide her right under everyone's noses."

"Well, that's sort of what I did have in mind, actually. If she's right under their noses, they won't even have reason to suspect anything. Besides, it's only for two days until Dumbledore gets back," she said. Still, Harry and Ron stared questioningly at her.

"Oh come on, it's not like we haven't done anything like this before. Norbert? Buckbeak? Sirius? I mean, we've got the Room of Requirement...and the one eyed witch passageway Harry used to take to meet us in Hogsmeade in the third year...and we've got an invisibility cloak."

Ron shrugged and Harry sighed in his resignation, signs Hermione took as indication that she'd successfully convinced them.

"Right...well..Harry, can you help me get her standing? I think her leg is broken, so let her lean on us if she has to. The cloak will only cover us-Ron'll have to meet us up at the castle."

"What? Why? What if it's a trap and she does something to you guys? I might need to-"

"And have someone in Honeydukes catch sight of your ankles floating on by? If you want to be useful, Ron, maybe see if you can cause some sort of diversion so Filch doesn't notice we don't come back with you...come on Bellatrix, we're going to take you up to get warm."

Reluctantly, Harry crouched down and tugged Bellatrix to her feet, upon which she immediately leaned against Hermione's left side as the gash under her neck began to ooze fresh blood. Ignoring a jibe from Ron, Harry took off the Gryffindor scarf from around his neck and carefully wrapped it around Bellatrix's throat to soak up the blood.

"Can't have her bleeding and giving us away," he said, though he regretted his decision a few seconds later, when the sleet picked up and stung at his exposed skin. He unraveled the Invisibility Cloak from his school bag with the arm that was not supporting Bellatrix while Ron looked on.

"Well, you seem to have everything in order...so I guess I'll just be going then. Good luck, mate," he said with an uncharacteristically hearty wave at Harry and no acknowledgement of Hermione.

She watched him disappear into the storm until he was truly no longer visible before she turned to Harry. "Well, I guess it's now or never then, isn't it?" She prompted, and he tossed the cloak over the three of them.


	3. Chapter 2: 20 October

**Chapter 2: 20 October**

Getting back through Hogsmeade and into Honeydukes turned out to be easier than Harry expected. Bellatrix was quiet in her confusion and didn't try to fight against them when he and Hermione half-pulled, half-carried her into the little village sweet shop.

What was going to be difficult was getting to the cellar door in the back, as the store was packed with students struggling to avoid the miserable weather outside.

"Hold onto her so she doesn't fall, I'll clear a path," Hermione whispered and very slowly, she let go of Bellatrix. As predicted, the witch couldn't hold herself upright and she fell against Harry, who held her very awkwardly around the middle in both his arms. Meanwhile, Hermione poked the point of her wand ever so slightly out of the folds of the Invisibility Cloak and pointed it at an opposing case of Cauldron Cakes and Pumpkin Pasties.

"Confringo," she whispered and the case exploded, sending pastries scattering all around the shop.

"Who did that? Out of the way, out of the way," said the shop witch, who came bustling out from behind the counter swatting students aside as she stooped to repair the case.

"Now!" Hermione breathed into Harry's ear and, each putting an arm around Bellatrix again, they skirted across the shop and slipped through the cellar door, hoping no one saw them.

The stairs proved to be the tricky part.

"Okay, Harry please tell me these are the only stairs we have to deal with."

"Er...yeah, I think so...might be a few to go up when we get to the school, but other than that, no."

Supporting her between them, Harry and Hermione squeezed through the door and down the rickety staircase, hoping the noise in the sweet shop wouldn't give away the thumping sound that was Bellatrix's black boots dragging against the steps.

The underground passageway back to the school was just as dark and musty as Harry remembered from three years ago. It was also quite cold as it was poorly insulated from the drafts of outside air. The positive side was that they could take off the cloak and travel more comfortably, spread out along the path. He and Hermione each had an arm around Bellatrix to help hold her up so she wouldn't have to put weight on her broken leg, and Hermione held her wand aloft in her other hand to light the way in front of them.

They didn't encounter any other real challenges until they reached the end of the tunnel and Harry caught sight of the trapdoor that would lead them up to the corridor outside the one-eyed witch passageway. Hermione climbed up first and extended her hands down while Harry hoisted Bellatrix up, noticing, though he didn't know why, that the Death Eater's hair smelled quite nice.

How they got Bellatrix through the school and up to the seventh floor, Harry never knew. They scanned the Marauders' Map and after ensuring that the coast was clear, they cut through a passage behind a portrait of a suit of armor and met Ron outside the tapestry of Barnabus the Barmy on the seventh floor.

"Harry? Hermione? Is that you?"

"Ssh! Yeah, it's us-under the cloak-"

"Well, let's get in the room-I've got something to tell you."

They were quite accomplished in using the Room of Requirement by this point, having used it to hold an illegal defense against the dark arts practice group the previous year, so when Harry faced it head on, the place where he knew the door would appear, he asked the room to make them a place to hide Bellatrix Lestrange where she couldn't get out ("but she's comfortable and has what she needs," added Hermione) and when the room obliged, they were more than impressed.

"It's outdone itself," said Ron. And it had. The three of them and Bellatrix (still covered by the cloak and supported between Harry and Hermione) were standing in a room the size of a large cathedral, whose high windows were sending shafts of light down upon towering walls of built of what they knew must have been objects hidden by generations of Hogwarts inhabitants.

"We've called on the Room of Lost Things," whispered Hermione. There were piles upon piles of broken furniture, old books, fanged frisbees and other banned items, chipped bottles of congealed potions, scraps of yellowing notes once exchanged between students, journals with names scrawled across the front, hats, jewels, cloaks, rusting swords and a heavy blood-stained axe.

They strolled through an alleyway carved between two towering piles of treasure and on the other side, noticed a small clearing next to the Vanishing Cabinet in which Montague was lost last year. It was the only space in the room mostly absent of other things and in fact, looked like a small bedroom fit in amidst the clutter.

A large bed sat at its middle, fit with purple and black sheets, a number of soft purple pillows and a tall black canopy fixed to its headboard. There was a wardrobe to match, a plush black carpet, a glossy antique mirror and even a door aside the vanishing cabinet leading into a small bathroom, also fully furnished in violet and black.

"It's beautiful," said Hermione.

"Better than she deserves," muttered Ron, but the three of them led Bellatrix into the little clearing anyway. As soon as they crossed what must have been an invisible line, however, a few things happened. First, three black velvet armchairs appeared around the bed as if for Ron, Hermione and Harry to sit in. Second, the noticed that area all around the rest of the room had gone foggy and strange.

"Brilliant, the room's put protective enchantments around this space for us," Hermione said, but in response to Ron and Harry's questioning looks, she went on.

"Bellatrix is confined to this area. She can't get out and no one else can get in except us. I reckon there are also soundproof barriers and invisibility spells in place so that to anyone else in the Room of Lost Things, this space would just appear as another pile of old junk-just like how Hogwarts might appear to outsiders as a condemed building or a rubbish yard, obvious to anyone who's ever read _Hogwarts: A History-"_

"-So just you, then," Ron interrupted. Harry rolled his eyes at their bickering and occupied himself with helping Bellatrix into bed. She winced a bit as he detangled her from the Invisibility Cloak's folds, but otherwise did not move or speak while Harry settled her into bed and pulled the blankets up around her. He sat down in one of the armchairs across from Ron and Hermione, who weren't speaking to each other.

"So, Ron, were you able to cause a diversion?" Harry asked.

"I didn't have to-that's what I wanted to tell you-Katie Bell's been cursed!"

"She WHAT?!" Hermione exclaimed loudly, forgetting her irritation at his earlier jibe.

"Yeah, I was heading back up to the school with Katie and her friend Leanne from Hufflepuff when all of a sudden they started arguing about something Katie had in her hand-a little package. Katie told Leanne she got it from someone in the bathroom at the Three Broomsticks and she had to deliver it to someone. Leanne told her not to touch it, but Katie did anyway and it sort of came open and Katie rose into the air like the Muggles at the Quidditch World Cup. Anyway, she sort of screamed and Hagrid started running over saying it looked like she'd been cursed-" Ron explained rather quickly to Harry and Hermione's slack-jawed faces.

"Then Hagrid took her back to the castle and me and Leanne had to go see Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape, who took one look at the package-some kind of necklace-and said Katie was lucky to be alive and that she'd probably been imperiused back at the Three Broomsticks. They asked about you two, but I made up some story...said you were shopping with Ginny and I'd decided to come back early and do my Charms homework...do you think -she- could have done that to Katie?" he said, with a jerk of his neck in the direction of Bellatrix's semi-conscious form.

"How could she? She was with us the whole time," said Hermione reasonably.

"But maybe whoever attacked her could have done it," said Ron. But Harry had just remembered something important.

"I bet it was Malfoy," he said. "He was looking at a necklace, in Borgin and Burkes, remember? We saw him-"

"Oh, Harry!" Hermione cut in furiously. "Ssh-you can't speak freely about him or his family in front of her, remember? What if familiar names and events trigger her memories or her...rather uncouth personality…"

"But Harry, he couldn't have," said Ron hesitantly, ignoring Hermione. "Leanne said Katie got it from the girls' bathroom."

"She only said Katie got back from the bathroom with it, not that she got it in the bathroom itself-" Harry and Ron went back and forth about this theory for a short while, though careful not to mention Malfoy by name, while Hermione applied more dittany to Bellatrix's wounds.

Eventually, Harry and Ron left the Room of Requirement to head back to the common room for the night, promising to meet Hermione in the Room the next day after breakfast (as she was to take first watch over the Death Eater, their prisoner of sorts, for the night).

When they rounded the corner and headed for the portrait of the Fat Lady, however, it was to find Professor McGonagall already outside waiting for them. Harry exchanged a worried glance with Ron and checked to make sure the Invisibility Cloak and the Map were stowed neatly in his bag before approaching their often formidable Head of House.

"Potter! There you are!"

"Is something wrong, Professor?"

"I presume Mr. Weasley has told you what happened to Katie Bell?" Professor McGonagall said sharply. Harry nodded. "Then you know I must ask you, Potter, why you were not seen by Mr. Filch returning to Hogwarts with the rest of your classmates?"

Harry shrugged and was, for once, very grateful that Professor McGonagall was not the accomplished Legilimens that Snape was.

"I dunno, he must not have noticed me. Everyone was trying to get in pretty fast, what with the snow and everything," he said, not quite meeting her eye. She looked as though she did not quite believe him, but without any evidence, would have a hard time pressing the matter further.

For a split second, Harry hesitated. He wanted to share with Professor McGonagall his theory about Malfoy, but she was not one to invite confidences and he did not want to spark further suspicion over his day's activities. This was a life-and-death matter, though, and no time to worry about being questioned more closely.

"I think Draco Malfoy gave Katie that necklace, Professor," he said. On the other side of him, Ron shuffled his feet a bit as though keen to put space between him and Harry in his apparent embarrassment.

"This is a very serious accusation, Potter," said Professor McGonagall. "Do you have any proof?"

"No," said Harry, "but . . ." and he told her about following Malfoy to Borgin and Burkes before term started and the conversation they had overheard between him and Mr. Borgin. When he had finished speaking, Professor McGonagall looked slightly confused.

"Malfoy took something to Borgin and Burkes for repair?"

"No, Professor, he just wanted Borgin to tell him how to mend something, he didn't have it with him. But that's not the point, the thing is that he bought something at the same time, and I think it was that necklace —"

"You saw Malfoy leaving the shop with a similar package?"

"No, Professor, he told Borgin to keep it in the shop for him —"

"But Harry," Ron interrupted, "Borgin asked him if he wanted to take it with him, and Malfoy said no —"

"Because he didn't want to touch it, obviously!" said Harry angrily.

"No, he said, 'How would I look carrying that down the street?' " said Ron.

"Well, he would look a bit of a prat carrying a necklace," interjected Harry.

"But Hermione asked Borgin about the necklace, don't you remember? When she went in to try and find out what Malfoy had asked him to keep, we saw it there. And Borgin just told her the price, he didn't say it was already sold or anything —"

"Well, Hermione was being really obvious, he realized what she was up to within about five seconds, of course he wasn't going to tell her — anyway, Malfoy could've sent off for it since —"

"That's enough!" said Professor McGonagall loudly. "Potter, I appreciate you telling me this, but we cannot point the finger of blame at Mr. Malfoy purely because he visited the shop where this necklace might have been purchased. The same is probably true of hundreds of people —"

"— that's what I said —" muttered Ron.

"— and in any case, we have put stringent security measures in place this year. I do not believe that necklace can possibly have entered this school without our knowledge —"

"But —"

"— and what is more," said Professor McGonagall. "Mr. Malfoy was not in Hogsmeade today. He was doing detention with me. He has now failed to complete his Transfiguration homework twice in a row. So, thank you for telling me your suspicions, Potter," she said as she marched past them, "but I need to go up to the hospital wing now to check on Katie Bell. Good day to you all. _Dilligrout,_ " she said, offering the password to the Fat Lady as she swept by, leaving Harry and Ron no choice but to file past her without another word.

When Harry went to bed that night, he had a lot on his mind. Who had the package Katie Bell was carrying been meant for? Whoever it was had had a narrow escape-could it have been meant for Dumbledore? Professor Slughorn? Or someone else? Who gave her the package? Was it Malfoy-and was he the same person who had attacked Bellatrix Lestrange and left her unconscious and void of her memories in Hogsmeade that day? Was Malfoy even capable of something like that? What was more, Harry couldn't believe they had managed to successfully hide Bellatrix Lestrange within the walls of , if anything, _did_ she remember?


	4. Chapter 3: 20-21 October

**Chapter 3: 20-21 October**

The news that Katie Bell had been cursed seemed to have spread all over the school by Sunday morning, after Katie herself was removed to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. The details had become so convoluted with each student's pass along of the information that Harry and Ron were grateful for the opportunity to dodge the gossip by meeting Hermione and Bellatrix after breakfast. They stopped by the kitchens on the way up, where Dobby and the other house elves were glad to prepare a sizable package of breakfast foods to take up with them, as the one thing the Room of Requirement was not able to provide for its visitors was food due to some magical rule Hermione probably knew by heart.

"There you are! I've been waiting for ages!" Hermione exclaimed when she saw them pass through the invisible barrier into Bellatrix's little space within the larger room of lost and hidden things. She anxiously wrenched the food parcel out of Ron's hands and helped herself to a glazed danish. Harry noticed that Bellatrix looked much better than she had the day before. She was sitting up in bed with wet hair like she'd recently showered. The dark circles were fading from under her eyes and while her injuries still had a raw, red appearance to them, all of the congealed blood from before was gone.

"Anything to eat, Bellatrix?" Hermione offered, but the Death Eater shook her head. "She won't talk to me at all," she said in an undertone to Harry and Ron. "If I ask her how she's feeling, she shrugs. If I ask her if she remembers anything, she shakes her head no."

"Do you think she's playing you?" Ron asked with a slightly fearful glance at Bellatrix.

"No, but I do think she's in some sort of shock...I mean how would you like it if you woke up somewhere unfamiliar and didn't remember hardly anything at all?"

"...Sounds like me every time I fall asleep in Potions class."

"Honestly, Ronald…"

Unable to stand even another moment of their bickering, Harry selected a plump sugar brioche from Dobby's package and held it out to Bellatrix the way Lupin used to do when Harry was recovering from a dementor attack.

"Eat, you'll feel better," he said. Her dark eyes flashed down to the pastry and then up at Harry before she reached out a hand and snatched it from him. As she did so, the side of her hand brushed against his own and Harry felt like a jolt of electricity had pierced him through.

 _She killed him. You hate her. She deserves to suffer for what she did._ In his conscious thoughts, he was repulsed by her. But a little deeper, there was something else. Despite all that he knew she had done and all that he was sure she was capable of, he had to admit that she did seem very harmless and pathetic this way...albeit very pretty...in a way he would have never noticed before when the only Bellatrix he'd ever seen was a murderer.

"Harry what is it?" Hermione asked. She'd been watching the exchange between Harry and Bellatrix curiously, wondering what it was about Harry that made the Death Eater willing to trust him a little bit...at least enough to take food from him and be close to him without recoiling.

"It's just...looking at her like this...so vulnerable and weak and scared...makes you wonder how she could have done any of the other stuff-even though we know she did. I saw her, she killed him, she laughed about it, she-"

"Harry, no! You've got to be careful what you say in front of her. You could trigger something and she could get violent-"said Hermione anxiously.

"What's she going to do? We've got her wand," Ron cut in, for it was true they'd confiscated Bellatrix's wand and locked it in the bottom of Harry's trunk for safe-keeping.

" _Ahem."_ All three of them looked up from their chairs at once to find Bellatrix Lestrange staring pointedly at them, a frightening determination in her eyes that wasn't there before.

"Harry. That girl. She called you Harry," said Bellatrix in a voice that sent a shiver down his spine. _He knows how to play! Itty. Bitty. Baby._

"Yes. Do...do you know me from somewhere?" he asked hesitantly, already afraid of her answer.

"No," she replied, to his relief. "But you know me. You know what happened to me. I know you do."

Harry glanced back and forth from Ron to Hermione, hoping one of them would be able to tell him how to proceed. When neither one of them spoke, he turned back to the Death Eater.

"Bellatrix, what do you remember about how you got here?"

"Nothing. Nothing at all," she said and then averted her eyes and retreated back into her silence for the remainder of their visit.

Ron's night of watch over Bellatrix that night went much as uneventfully Hermione's, so by the time Monday rolled around, they all agreed that she was harmless enough to not be an immediate threat to everyone's safety and that they could probably stand to wait and see what, if anything, they could get out of her before turning her over to the Order.

Harry had wondered whether Dumbledore would return from wherever he had been in time for Monday night's lesson, but having had no word to the contrary, he presented himself outside Dumbledore's office at eight o'clock, knocked, and was told to enter. The office looked much the same as it had the last time he was inside it. The former headmasters of Hogwarts snoozed away in their ornate portrait frames on the wall, the Sorting Hat rested atop the highest bookshelf, and the unknown silver instruments whirred and buzzed away on their respective stands. Only the Headmaster himself looked different. He appeared unusually tired and his hand was as black and burned as ever, but he smiled when he gestured to Harry to sit down. The Pensieve was sitting on the desk again, casting silvery specks of light over the ceiling.

"You have had a busy time while I have been away," Dumbledore said, instantly putting Harry on high alert. How much did he know?

"I believe you witnessed Katie's accident."

"No, sir. Actually that was my friend Ron. But err...how is she?"

"Still very unwell, although she was relatively lucky. She appears to have brushed the necklace with the smallest possible amount of skin: There was a tiny hole in her glove. Had she put it on, had she

even held it in her ungloved hand, she would have died, perhaps instantly. Luckily Professor Snape was able to do enough to prevent a rapid spread of the curse —"

"Why him?" asked Harry quickly. "Why not Madam Pomfrey?"

"Professor Snape knows much more about the Dark Arts than Madam Pomfrey, Harry. Anyway, the St. Mungo's staff are sending me hourly reports, and I am hopeful that Katie will make a full recovery

in time."

"Professor," said Harry, after a short pause, "did Professor McGonagall tell you what I told her after Katie got hurt? About Draco Malfoy?"

"She told me of your suspicions, yes," said Dumbledore.

"And do you — ?"

"I shall take all appropriate measures to investigate anyone who might have had a hand in Katie's accident," said Dumbledore. "But what concerns me now, Harry, is our lesson."

Just as before, Dumbledore had prepared memories about Voldemort's past for them to view through the Pensieve. In the first, one of the founders of the Knockturn Alley shop Borgin&Burkes told Dumbledore about the day Merope Gaunt, pregnant and dressed in rags, came to sell a locket she said was Slytherin's and even though he knew she wasn't lying, he also knew she was desperate enough to only take ten Galleons for it. Merope Gaunt had stopped using magic after the love of her life, Tom Riddle Sr, left her and felt like she had nothing to live for, not even her son, so she succumbed to Muggle poverty.

In the second, more detailed memory, Harry and Dumbledore viewed a memory of Dumbledore's own-one in which a younger version of himself called upon an eleven-year-old Voldemort at the orphanage where he lived, to tell him that he was a wizard.

" _I was wondering whether you could tell me anything of Tom Riddle's history? I think he was born here in the orphanage?"_ a younger Dumbledore asked the orphanage matron, Mrs. Cole. She told him that the young Tom Riddle who would become Voldemort was born in the snow outside of the orphanage and his mother died almost immediately afterwards, saying only that Tom was to be named after his father.

" _There have been incidents_. . . . _Nasty things,_ " Mrs. Cole said. " _Billy Stubbs's rabbit . . . well, Tom said he didn't do it and I don't see how he could have done, but even so, it didn't hang itself_

 _from the rafters, did it?"_

" _I shouldn't think so, no."_

" _But I'm jiggered if I know how he got up there to do it. All I know is he and Billy had argued the day before. And then...on the summer outing — we take them out, you know, once a year, to the countryside or to the seaside — well, Amy Benson and Dennis Bishop were never quite right afterwards, and all we ever got out of them was that they'd gone into a cave with Tom Riddle. He swore they'd just gone exploring, but something happened in there, I'm sure of it. And, well, there have been a lot of_

 _things, funny things. . . ."_

When Dumbledore finally went to see Tom, Harry was reminded strongly of the day Hagrid came to fetch him from the Dursleys. Although unlike Harry, Tom's reaction to his invitation to Hogwarts was aggressive-accusing Dumbledore of being a doctor from an asylum come to take him away and commit him...until Dumbledore said that Hogwarts was a school for magic and that he, Tom, was a wizard...something he accepted a lot faster than Harry had when Hagrid told him. They learned a little more about Voldemort from the memory-how he used to collect and steal trinkets from other children, how he didn't want Dumbledore's help buying his school supplies in Diagon Alley (nor the help of any adult with anything), how he could speak to snakes, and how he did not like having the common name 'Tom.'

"Time is making fools of us again," said Dumbledore. "But I hope you are not too sleepy to pay attention to this, Harry — the young Tom Riddle liked to collect trophies. You saw the box of stolen articles he had hidden in his room. These were taken from victims of his bullying behavior, souvenirs, if you will, of particularly unpleasant bits of magic. Bear in mind this magpie-like tendency, for this, particularly, will be important later. In addition, I trust that you also noticed that Tom Riddle was already highly self-sufficient, secretive, and, apparently, friendless? He did not want help or companionship on his trip to Diagon Alley. He preferred to operate alone. The adult Voldemort is the same. You will hear many of his Death Eaters claiming that they are in his confidence, that they alone are close to him, even understand him. They are deluded."

"Sir?" asked Harry uncertainly, for his mind was swirling with thoughts.

"Yes?"

"You said Voldemort always operates alone...that he's never gotten close to anyone...but what about Bellatrix, sir? Bellatrix Lestrange?"

"What about her?" Harry found himself suddenly desperate to know more, but he didn't want to alert Dumbledore's already highly astute sense of suspicion.

"It's just that...she's always been the closest Death Eater to him, hasn't she? I mean...last year...at the Ministry...he even saved her life." Harry said all this very slowly and awkwardly given that he rarely ever talked about what happened in the Department of Mysteries at the end of last term. "You know he could have just apparated away and still no one would have known he was back-but he wasted all that time saving her when she was pinned under that statue after-" He broke off and Dumbledore responded with a knowing look like he understood Harry had been about to say something along the lines of "after she killed Sirius."

"It is curious, isn't it, Harry? But I'm sure you can see why he would be drawn to her."

"I'm sorry; no."

"I believe that for a long time, Bellatrix represented everything Voldemort wished his life and childhood had been. Think about it, she was born a pureblood witch into a wealthy, prominent family. She was very attractive and possessed a unique, uncommon, and memorable name. All qualities he prized. She was a talented witch who wielded a lot of influence from a very young age, even during her time here at Hogwarts in Slytherin house…" Dumbledore trailed off.

"But sir, if you don't mind my asking, what changed? You said it like she _used_ to represent everything he wanted."

"Well, now she's spent the past decade in Azkaban and it has taken its toll on her as you saw at the Ministry. Now he's the influential one. I don't know for certain, but I could guess that perhaps he blasted that statue away from her to preserve what was left of that idyllic past he reinvented for himself." Harry frowned, his mind racing. So Voldemort must have recruited her when she was very young...and then he'd used her all along...though he didn't know why any of this made him angry. It didn't make any difference. It didn't absolve her of any of her actions...even if she fell in line with Voldemort when she was his, Harry's, own age, how was it that he, Ron and Hermione knew right from wrong?

"But, Harry," said Dumbledore, interrupting his thoughts. "Bellatrix Lestrange is not our focus here...but just know this: Lord Voldemort has never had a friend, nor do I believe that he has ever wanted one. And now, it really is time for bed." He waved to Harry, who understood himself to be dismissed.

After the meeting, it was well past midnight, but when Harry headed up to the seventh floor, he turned not left towards the Gryffindor common room, but right towards Barnabus the Barmy and the Room of Requirement.

Bellatrix was sleeping when he settled himself in one of the black armchairs, and as he was not in any state of mind to do homework, he pulled out his well-read copy of _Quidditch Through the Ages_ and began to read. Some time later, he had just gotten to the chapter on _Changes in Quidditch Since the 14th Century_ when the sound of rustling blankets made him pause. He shut the book and saw Bellatrix sitting up awake and looking curiously at him from her bed.

"Do you play?" she asked, gesturing to his book with her bandaged hand. If Harry had expected her to say anything at all, it wasn't that.

"Err..yeah, I do actually. I'm Seeker. And Captain of my house team." He couldn't even see Hermione finding harm in telling her that much and before he could stop himself, he find himself asking "what about you?"

Again, she surprised him by offering him a small smile and laughing in a way that was significantly different than when she was teasing him about Sirius. This laughter was softer, lighter, almost musical.

"I played Chaser second through seventh year...although you wouldn't believe it if I told you how hard I tried to get on the team as a first year," said Bellatrix. Harry could hardly believe what he was hearing-the notorious Bellatrix Lestrange (though she would have still been a Black then) a... _Quidditch player?_

"Ha, well you can't have been because when I made the team as a first year I was told I was the youngest in a century to do it," said Harry and Bellatrix's jaw dropped.

"Dumbledore let you play? As a first year?"

"Well, only because Professor McGonagall was pretty desperate for a good season. We hadn't won the cup in seven years." Surely he still wasn't giving too much away...she had to have picked up on the fact that he, Ron and Hermione were Gryffindors by now. After all, she'd worn Harry's own Gryffindor scarf back up to the castle from Hogsmeade.

"McGonagall, really? Never would have expected such rule-bending from her," said Bellatrix who was again laughing. "I didn't even think to ask Slughorn-he was my head of house-if you weren't one of his pre-chosen 'favorite students' he didn't have eyes for you at all."

"So you weren't in the Slug Club, then?" Harry heard himself ask.

"The Slug Club? So he's STILL got that going?"

Harry nodded. He was finding it so easy to talk to Bellatrix-just as easy as talking to Ron and Hermione, in fact-that he hardly noticed the hours passing by. They joked about the Slug Club, traded stories about teachers and talked about Quidditch with such ease that before he knew it, the first rays of dawn sunlight were peeking through the high cathedral-like windows, bathing Bellatrix's pale skin in balmy lilac.

It was like talking to someone with the humor of Ron and the wit of Hermione, but without any bickering or petty arguing. From what he could gather, she remembered a great deal about her school days, just not too much after that...but he didn't press her on it. Right now, the Bellatrix that owned those gaping holes in her memory did not exist, and this new model in her place was far more pleasant than the surly vindictive model he'd endured at the Ministry.

Just after six, Harry gathered his things to leave and get ready for class. He was tired, but at the same time he didn't think he'd wasted the evening...and the notion that he had so much to tell Ron and Hermione acted a bit like adrenaline propelling him into motion.

"Your friends...a different one of you comes to see me every night. Why is that?" Bellatrix caught him off guard just as he was about to leave through the barrier of protective enchantments. What could he tell her? He decided on the truth...well, a partial truth at any rate.

"It's to...keep you safe," said Harry.

"Safe from what? Please. No one will tell me what's going on and you know, I'm sure of it." Her eyes were wide and her head tilted to one side in her own pleading sort of way.

"I'm sorry," he heard himself say (why was he apologizing to a Death Eater?!). "It's just not...time...for you to know yet."

"But you will tell me, right, Harry?"

"I'll see what I can do," he said, before heading out through the barrier of enchantments and leaving Bellatrix, he knew, more confused than ever.


	5. Chapter 4: 27 October

**Chapter 4: 27 October**

"How was Quidditch practice?" asked Bellatrix when Harry strode into the Room of Requirement that night well after midnight.

"Completely lousy," replied Harry honestly. Quidditch was one of the only things he was allowed to safely talk to her about and besides that, he had an overwhelmingly strong desire to vent to someone unrelated to Gryffindor or the team at the present moment.

"Ron did seem a bit...agitated last night...I wondered…"

"He talked to you?" asked Harry, surprised. For all he'd heard, Hermione and Ron didn't talk to Bellatrix that much during their nights on watch. Hermione often tried to interrogate the Death Eater, who in turn grew upset when she didn't get answers to the questions she posed back to Hermione about her missing memories and her past. Hermione then ended up spending a lot of her time on homework. Ron, though he'd never admit it, was terrified Bellatix was going to lapse into her evil ways at any moment and Harry knew he dreaded being alone with her.

"No, but he seemed agitated and he muttered something about Quidditch, I thought-"

"Well, you thought right," Harry heard himself say only to feel bad instantly. Ron was his best mate, what was he talking about him to Bellatrix Lestrange for? Maybe there wasn't much point in keeping things from her after all. "See, the thing is...Ron's my best mate, but he's not the best-I mean, he's brilliant-when he's on form...but he lets nerves get the best of him, even at practice, and then he…"

"Flops," Bellatrix finished for him.

"Err...something like that," Harry replied, only to feel guilty again. Ron _was_ his best mate. What was he doing telling Bellatrix on him for?

"Have you talked to him about it" said Bellatrix.

"Err…"

"I'll take that as a no. You've just got to get his confidence up, it sounds like. You said he's on form when he isn't nervous...is that true?"

"Yes, I mean, I've seen Ron make great saves-like last year for instance, he was so good we won the Cup...but it took him a few games to gain his ground and now it's like he's lost it all over the summer."

"Have you no way of convincing Ron in advance that he'll play well in the match?" Bellatrix asked. She seemed to be hinting at something obvious, but Harry wasn't following.

"No...well, we all tell him we know he can do it and everything...but unless I could predict the future...but even then he wouldn't believe it. We're both hopeless at divination." He smiled and she laughed musically again before rolling her heavily-lidded eyes.

"No, I mean really _convince_ him...like a trick."

"Trick Ron into believing everything will definitely be alright...but how?"

"Yes...maybe even trick him into thinking _luck_ is on his side…" Bellatrix was definitely smirking now, and in that sort of all-understanding Hermioneish way, like she knew something he didn't.

"Luck? No...you don't mean...how did you know?"

"You aren't the only one who vents to me."

"Hermione?" Harry asked, but Bellatrix merely shrugged as if she wasn't about to give anything away without more effort on his part...but Harry already knew.

"I'm tired of this bed. I feel like an invalid. Let's move somewhere else and talk."

"Where do we…" But as soon as she said it, a change overcame the little space. The two chairs normally reserved for Ron and Hermione changed shape and merged into a comfortable-looking black couch trimmed in indigo lace and pushed back against the window overlooking the snowy grounds below. Bellatrix tossed away the covers of her bed with a flourish of her bandaged hand and relocated herself to the couch.

"There. Now we can talk as friends." She patted the space beside her and Harry felt a spark of adrenaline, fear and excitement. She wanted him to sit beside her. Should he? Was it a trap? Could he fight her off if need be? Very quickly he decided that yes, given he had a wand and she didn't and that she was still injured and he wasn't, it was probably safe to sit with her. She watched him, her legs crossed and her messy hair falling over her shoulders and still smirking like she could see his brain working around this pivotal decision.

Then, as though no time had passed at all, Harry crossed the tiny bedroom to sit beside her-not too close, but not too far away, either.

"You er...smell nice," he said. A musky, dragon's blood kind of smell.

"Thank you. I've found that with the exception of food, my wand, and answers, this room gives me anything I like...including my favorite shampoo."

"Speaking of answers…" said Harry. "Why did Hermione tell you about the Felix Felicis?" Wasn't she breaking her own rules about not telling Bellatrix too much? Was Harry then, now more at liberty to discuss things more intimately with her? What else had Hermione told her?

"She really doesn't think it's right that you won the potion...she thinks it's cheating." Did she know about the Half-Blood Prince's book, too? Maybe he wouldn't press this yet.

"But it is! I mean, if I use it on Ron at the match like you're saying!"

"She's right-you are thick." Bellatrix laughed, in a warm cackling sort of way this time, like chunks of wood in a fire. "You don't have to _use_ it...Ron just has to…"

"-think I did. Bellatrix...you're brilliant!"

"We Slytherins are known for tricks like that." She was smiling, but her eyes looked sad. "Well, now we've got that sorted. I wanted to talk to you," she said and her eyes looked sadder.

"Oh. About?"

"Me. This place. You said before that you would tell me what's going on."

"Oh." Harry frowned. He had told her he would tell her...hadn't he? He knew she could tell he was struggling and failing to reason his way out of it.

"I've been here a week now. And before you try to lie, I already know it isn't any kind of hospital. I know I'm in the Room of Requirement at Hogwarts. I also know I'm trapped here in some kind of section of the room of lost things and even though I'm almost physically healed, I still don't have my memory, or my wand, and I still can't leave."He could see tears welling up at the corners of her eyes, could see them fighting against the thick eyeliner gathered there, against Bellatrix's own resistance to pain.

"Well...err..what is the last thing you can remember?"

"See, that's the complicated thing. It's not so simple. It's not really one thing I remember before I blacked out. It's a series of things and non-things at the same time."

"Meaning?"

"I remember everything...as clearly as one can remember things that happened long ago...from up until I was about 17...and after that, everything is blurry. I know that my little sister got married and had a baby, but I don't remember the baby's name. And I know I was married at some point, but I don't know when or to whom. And I remember little day to day things like times I went to the grocery or the pub, but I don't remember where I lived...and Harry, I'm really scared." She let her arm fall against the arm of the couch and cast her face away from him, probably to hide the single tear he saw escape its confines and fall into her lap, where it soon became lost in the fold of the thin black robes she was wearing.

Harry didn't know what to do. In a way, she felt like a friend and if Ron or Hermione or Neville or Ginny was upset, he would want to get them feeling better as soon as he could, in whatever way he could. But this was different. Bellatrix was not his friend...and the pain, what she was feeling, what he could feel radiating off of her in spiraling waves, wasn't an ordinary upset. It was a lost, confused, lonely sort of upset...the only thing he had to associate it was with a memory. A little boy alone in a dark cupboard under the stairs in the house of an aunt and uncle who never wanted him, knowing there was something... _something_ he didn't know. Dreams of green light and high, merciless laughter...Harry saw an arm he recognized as his own reach out to touch her shoulder and he shivered even though her skin was rather warm.

"It's killing me inside to ask this of you...but Harry, you can't leave me and if I must be here...you can't stop coming to see me. Not until everything is okay again…"

"I think you and I have different ideas about what 'okay' is, Bellatrix."

"Harry...please…"

"I'll be here as long as-"

"Really, that's all I needed to hear," she said, cutting him off. She tossed his hand away and rubbed the tears out of the corners of her eyes, covering them with yet another different kind of laughter, forced and choked up this time while she muttered something that sounded like "being silly." But Harry didn't think she was being silly at all.

"Maybe...things will be better (he was careful not to say 'you' or 'feel,' sensing she was strong like Ginny and wouldn't want her emotions called directly into question) if we can sort out some basic things you do remember. To start, what is your name?"

"Bellatrix Marie Lestrange, formerly Black," she said with conviction.

"Good...and how old are you?"

"I feel like I'm still 17 since that's the age I remember most clearly...but I know that can't be true since I remember my little sister turning 19 and having her baby. So I must be in my 20's or 30's...but like I said, I don't know. Harry, please. What happened to my memories? You know what happened. I know you do." She was trying to keep her voice even, but Harry could sense the desperation in it anyway.

"Well, I don't know for sure. But I think someone took your memories."

"Took them? But who? And why?"

"I don't know, and nor do Ron and Hermione. We found you this way. We thought maybe you knew something you shouldn't have."

"Whatever I might have known is gone now," she said as she shrugged. "Bastard got what they wanted, I expect." She was quickly returning to herself...her new self, her raw self, but herself nonetheless. She turned towards him and let their eyes lock for a brief second that hung in the air between them, bearing the weight of everything. Then those eyes found his forehead so many eyes before them.

"You...you have a very interesting scar, Harry. You probably have a very interesting story to go with it," said Bellatrix.

"Like you I don't remember the story that goes with it," said Harry, not completely lying. She smiled and put a finger to her lips.

"Then we don't have to talk anymore about it. Not today, anyway. But maybe...on other days...we can help each other remember." Her presence was binding then. Maybe it was her smile, or her eyes, or the snowy moonlight glowing silvery on her skin...maybe it was the fact that she didn't keep staring at his scar, but he couldn't have looked away from her if he wanted to.

"Yeah, Bellatrix, that's-"

"Please. If we are to be friends, then you may call me Bella." _Bella._ It sounded nice in his head...like a charm. The kind that was powerful and beautiful to look at all at once-like _Incendio_ or _Aguamenti._

"It's Halloween in three days, isn't it?" she said. "I've been smelling the pumpkin and cinnamon coming from the castle for the past few days now….the Halloween feast was always one of my favorite days at Hogwarts...I would love to see it again."

"Well, you know we can't do that...but I'll be sure to bring you plenty of the food-and some pumpkins, too, whatever I can nick."

"We can have our own feast," said Bella. And her eyes sparkled with new fire all of a sudden.

"Sure, it'll be….spectacular." He'd said the first word that came to mind. _Spectacular?!_

"I'll look forward to it...and Harry? Thank you." She smiled...and laughed again, her musical one this time.

He didn't know why it hit it so powerfully then, when maybe Hermione'd come to her own conclusions already, but the Bellatrix before him wasn't the same woman who'd murdered Sirius or tortured Neville's parents or professed her love for Voldemort...the woman before him was Bella who'd never even heard of Voldemort. Here, now, she wasn't a Death Eater and he wasn't the Chosen One. She was just Bella. He was just Harry. And he'd never felt this way before.


	6. Chapter 5: 28-31 October

**Chapter 5: 28-31 October**

"So how was Slughorn's latest party?" Harry asked Hermione in Herbology on Friday morning. He knew she'd been attending all of Professor Slughorn's get togethers while he was occupied with Quidditch practice.

"Oh, it was quite fun, really," said Hermione, who was putting on her protective goggles. "I mean, he drones on about famous ex-pupils a bit, and he absolutely fawns on McLaggen because he's so well connected, but he gave us some really nice food and he introduced us to Gwenog Jones..."

"Quite enough chat over here!" said Professor Sprout briskly, bustling over and looking stern. "You're lagging behind, everybody else has started, and Neville's already got his first pod!"

"Okay, Professor, we're starting now!" said Ron, adding quietly, when she had turned away again, "should've used Muffliato, Harry."

"No, we shouldn't!" said Hermione at once, looking, as she always did, intensely cross at the thought of the Half-Blood Prince, only making the exception for using the Prince's made up spell to have a private conversation when they were discussing Bellatrix. But Professor Sprout was right-it became increasingly difficult to carry a conversation once the Snargaluff plant attacked them. It turned out the plant wasn't too fond of having its pods extracted.

After beating back its spiky vines, they managed to extract their first pod and drop it into a bowl with looks of disgust on their faces.

"Don't be squeamish, squeeze it out, they're best when they're fresh!" called Professor Sprout.

"Anyway," said Hermione, continuing their interrupted conversation as though a lump of wood had not just attacked them, "Slughorn's going to have a Christmas party, Harry, and there's no way you'll be able to wriggle out of this one because he actually asked me to check your free evenings, so he could be sure to have it on a night you can come." Harry groaned. Meanwhile, Ron, who was attempting to burst the pod in the bowl by putting both hands on it, standing up, and squashing it as hard as he could, said angrily,

"And this is another party just for Slughorn's favorites, is it?"

"Just for the Slug Club, yes," said Hermione.

"It's pathetic. Well, I hope you enjoy your party. Why don't you try hooking up with McLaggen, then Slughorn can make you King and Queen Slug —"

"We're allowed to bring guests," said Hermione, "and I was going to ask you to come, but if you think it's that stupid then I won't bother!"

-"You were going to ask me?"

-"Yes, but obviously if you'd rather I hooked up with McLaggen . . ."

-"No, I wouldn't."

Harry would take the Snargaluff pods over this conversation, so he reached down into the plant to extract another pod in the hope that it would distract Ron and Hermione enough to remember he was right there between them. It was not as though he was really surprised, thought Harry, as he wrestled with a thorny vine intent upon throttling him; he had had an inkling that this might happen sooner or later. But he was not sure how he felt about it. . . . He and Cho were now too embarrassed to look at each other, let alone talk to each other; what if Ron and Hermione started going out together, then split up? Could their friendship survive it? And what if they became one of those vomit-inducing couples all over each other in Madam Puddifoots? Could he survive being around them? The rest of the lesson passed without further mention of Slughorn's party. Although Harry watched his two friends more closely over the weekend, Ron and Hermione did not seem any different except that they were a little politer to each other than usual. Harry supposed he would just have to wait to see what happened under the influence of butterbeer in Slughorn's dimly lit room on the night of the party. In the meantime, however, he had more pressing worries.

It was a topic they tried to avoid bringing up, especially due to the high potential that they could be overheard, but not only for that reason: what were they going to do about Bellatrix? Ron was still all for giving her over to Dumbledore and Hermione was increasingly moving over to his camp since she couldn't see them getting much information out of Bellatrix any time soon.

"...but it is potentially problematic," she said in a hushed voice in the common room on Sunday night. "The longer we wait, the more questions we'll be asked. How and why did we keep her here for so long, that sort of thing...maybe we should have given her over straightaway-"

"How can you say that?!" Harry found himself cutting in more loudly than he'd intended. Ron and Hermione both dropped the essays they were working on and looked at Harry like a Snargaluff vine had just sprouted out of his head. "I mean...she's-it's-fascinating, isn't it?" Harry was speaking more quickly now, trying to cover himself-for what? He didn't know. "She doesn't remember anything about the war or Voldemort or the Death Eaters at all-" he continued (Ron winced at the sound of the evil wizard's name). "We're getting to know her separate from all of that. She doesn't know anything she's done. She's smart and funny and interesting and...it's her second chance. Her memories were taken for a reason...either someone is out for her or someone wanted her to have that second chance. If we give her up, then it's all for nothing. She's safe here. She's _only_ safe here...and if we give her up...she'll die." The other two were still staring wide-eyed at him.

"But _why_ would we want to get to know her?" Ron said finally. "We know what she's done. We know who she is and what she's capable of-she doesn't deserve a second chance, mate."

"How would you know what she does or doesn't deserve when you don't talk to her?" Harry heard himself getting angry now.

"Mate...that's out of order...siding with that _Death Eater_ over us!" said Ron, now raising his own voice too.

"Honestly, be quiet, both of you...very well, _muffliato,_ " a very exhasperated Hermione hissed the Prince's spell out of the corner of her mouth as a group of giggling third year girls entered through the portrait hole. "I think you're both making good points-and Harry, even though I'm surprised at you, I do agree...just giving her away to the aurors doesn't seem right, but I agree with Ron, too-" she added when he opened his mouth to protest. "I don't know what the answer is...but, speaking of," she said with a glance at her watch. "It's time to go and see her with dinner, Harry."

"Err...about that, I was meaning to ask, Hermione would you be alright to switch with me? You go tonight and I'll go tomorrow?" Harry asked. Hermione raised an eyebrow suspiciously at him.

"Why? You seemed so keen to go and see more of her a few minutes ago…"

"Well, the first match of the quidditch season is next week and seeing as Katie isn't going to be well enough to play, I've got to find a replacement chaser in time for them to join us at practice this week and as tomorrow's the feast-"

"All right, all right…" Hermione nodded as she swatted him quiet. "I'd forgotten all about sweet sacred quidditch, pardon me…" But Harry wasn't listening to the rest of her sarcastic mutterings. An immense sense of relief had begun to wash over him as soon as she agreed to switch the dates without a fight. While he did have to talk to Dean Thomas about replacing Katie Bell as chaser in the next match, he had far more secretive intentions, as well. Tomorrow was Halloween and Harry didn't want to break his promise to Bella that they'd spend it together...and Ron and Hermione, well, they just wouldn't understand.

The morning of Halloween dawned sunny and unseasonably warm. Bright light washed through the windows of the castle, illuminating swirls of dust like fireflies in the corridors. He did indeed smell strong aromas of pumpkin and cinnamon heading to Defense Against the Dark Arts, but any day a feast or other enjoyable activity was scheduled seemed to make Snape act his most miserable. He then had Potions, where Hermione wasn't talking to him because she didn't like the idea of Harry using the Prince's book to make top of the class.

By the time they made it to the feast, Ron and Hermione weren't speaking to each other, either-something about Ron reasoning out that Hermione had probably snogged Viktor Krum two years before. The good part of this was that even though he was sitting between them, his two best friends were so distracted that they didn't notice him nicking more food than usual for Bellatrix. He grabbed some of the small pumpkins off the table, several caramel apples, frosted jack-o-lantern lollipops, handfuls of candy corn and a few wrapped slices of pumpkin pie in addition to the dinner food and pumpkin juice they normally stole for her. He didn't know why he was disappointed, but he wished he could do more to put on a better Halloween for Bellatrix (her day to day life in the Room of Requirement was starting to really bore her, he knew) but by the time he climbed the staircase to the seventh floor that night, he was just glad to spend time with someone who wasn't angry about something stupid.

"Harry!"

"Oh...err...hi, Bella. It's good to see you, yknow, up and around…" said Harry, although it was a bit of an understatement. Her little room had the look of a place that had decorated itself to match the rest of the castle. Live bats fluttered around the high vaulted ceiling and all the furniture was decked out with orange and black streamers. The end table had a skull resting on it and there was even a cluster of lit jack-o-lanterns in one corner.

But the real surprise to Harry, was Bella herself. She looked like Harry had never seen Bellatrix Lestrange look before. She had traded her usual black robes for a long dress of pumpkin-colored orange trimmed with gold along the sleeves. It was low-cut to the point of embarrassing Harry, who was trying to keep himself from staring at her abundant cleavage spilling out over the top of it. Her hair was no longer matted and wild, but curled to elegant perfection and woven around a gold-leaf headband as if she were a harvest fairie, and her face had more color in it than he'd seen since before her arrival at Hogwarts.

"I was starting to think you weren't going to show up for our party," she said.

"Of course, I mean...I was looking forward to it," said Harry and then he realized it was true. Bellatrix laughed.

"So have I."

"Well, I brought some food from downstairs...and that seems like the only thing we need apart from, I dunno, maybe some music-" As soon as Harry said this, however, an old Victrola appeared next to the couch and started spinning an old Celestina Warbeck record by itself.

They joked and bantered with each other as they ate their way through the feast-spread, Harry, unsurprisingly, having more fun up here with her than he did with the rest of the school earlier.

"Bet you weren't expecting such an eventful Halloween, hm?" Bella prompted as she drained her pumpkin juice. Harry shook his head and swallowed his mashed potatoes before responding.

"Well, in my first year, Ron and I knocked out a ten-foot mountain troll. And in second year, we went to a Deathday party for one of the ghosts."

"Oooh I've always wanted to go to one of those, but the ghosts were always more scared of me than I was of them, I think. How was it?"

"It was alright, I guess...except for the food-they weren't really used to having living guests," he joked and she laughed.

"It's weird, I remember all my Halloweens at Hogwarts except for my first one...I spent time with a friend of mine instead of going to the feast, I think…"

Harry had a bad feeling about this "friend," and decided a change of subject was probably in order. He paused, trying to think what to talk about when he heard the next song come on.

 _I took my troubles down to Madame Ruth_

 _You know that gypsy with the gold-capped tooth_

"Bella?"

"Hm?" She turned to look at him, but her eyes were distanced and she didn't seem as happy as she'd been earlier.

 _She looked at my palm and she made a magic sign_

 _She said "What you need is love potion number nine"_

"Do you..err...want to dance?" said Harry, fully aware of how awkward he sounded and reminded rather unpleasantly of asking Cho Chang to the Yule Ball in the fourth year. But this was completely different...Bella was Bellatrix and he couldn't forget that...he'd also spoken more to her in the past week than he had to Cho in six years of being at school together.

 _I held my nose, I closed my eyes, I took a drink_

"You're asking me to dance, Harry?" Bellatrix actually threw back her head when she laughed this time, but she was smiling again-smiling like she meant it.

"Well yeah, I mean...just as friends...I didn't mean-"

"Stop fussing about, I'm just being difficult on purpose-sure, I'll dance with you-" she said, getting to her feet and gesturing for Harry to do the same. They didn't have much room, so when Harry was up next to Bella (a little taller than she was, it turned out) he found himself just staring at her.

 _I didn't know if it was day or night_

 _I started kissing everything in sight_

The only dancing he'd ever done was at the Yule Ball and that really had only been one song with Parvati Patil and something about taking Bella's waist felt very, very different. When he grabbed her hand, he could tell she thought it was a joke, which, he reminded himself, it was. But then the music stopped.

"The song is over," he said without letting go of her hand or her waist.

"There'll be another song," said Bellatrix. And she was right.

 _I put a spell on you_

 _Because you're mine_

They danced song after song together, even waltzing to some old classical number the magic victrola spewed out. Harry drew Bella gently to him, their bodies only inches apart and while Harry had never been much for dancing, Bella moved with a fluidity and grace that didn't seem to fit her crass death eater personality. They whirled around their little space with her leading and it reminded Harry of flying on a broomstick-swift and effortless.

When the last song ended and the victrola's record spun to a slow stop, Harry brought the back of Bella's hand to his lips and kissed it (which he thought was the polite thing to do) and then without really thinking about it, he bent and kissed her cheek. At this, she laughed her cackling laugh, but did not pull completely away.

"Harry, I'm not too sure how old I am, but I'm surely too old for you!" She spoke like she was scandalized, but her eyes sparkled like it was just another of her jokes and she didn't really mind.

"I'm sorry...it's just, I like spending time with you, y'know?" said Harry.

"I like it, too. You're different." She was looking at him curiously, with her head tilted to one side and her hair falling playfully over that orange dress.

"So are you." Who was she, really? Sure, she was probably just old enough to be his mother, she was a death eater, a murderer, a Slytherin, Bellatrix who was obsessed with the man who'd tried to take everything from Harry...but she was also Bella who was smart and funny and attractive, who knew the right things to say, who was strong in the face of what must seem like an impossible situation, and she was Bella who he really wanted to kiss again.

And even though he knew it was wrong, his dreams that night were full of Bellatrix in her orange dress, lighting a fire in his life, and he was deeply grateful that neither Ron nor Hermione could perform Legilimency.


	7. Chapter 6: 2 November

**Chapter 6: 2 November**

 _It is the night of the first Quidditch Match of the year. Gryffindor beat Slytherin 200 points to 20, with Harry catching the snitch in record time, right under Malfoy's smug, up-turned nose. The entire team wants to head up to the common room and party with all the food they can nick from the kitchens and all the firewhiskey they can drink...but Harry wants only to see her. Could she see any of the match out her window? Or were the individual players too far away to make out? Could she hear the commentary, the final score, the roar of the crowd heading back up from the pitch? It seems she must have, because when he enters the room, she pulls him into her arms, whispers "you were brilliant," and lets him kiss her. Then she is slipping out of her tight black dress. He watches the silky material gather around her waist as her back faces him, shiny and exposed...He feels the way he used to around Cho Chang, except it's stronger in a way..and the things he wants to do with her...it's the stuff of daydream charms..._

"Hello, Harry. Is the DA meeting again?" Harry stopped still in his tracks, the daydream leaving his thoughts as quickly as if it'd been magically wiped away.

"Luna!?" The blonde was there sure enough, standing beside Barnabus the Barmy wearing her radish earrings and an expression of the most serene confusion.

"You, Ron and Hermione have been coming here loads again...The Grey Lady told me."

"Did she?"

"She did. I was wondering if the DA was back to having meetings." Luna wasn't moving. She kept looking at him with her wide eyes, always having the habit of inserting herself into conversations and situations in the bluntest of ways.

"Luna, it's not like that. Honestly, we-" He broke off when he heard what sounded distinctly like a cat's low growl drawing nearer. Mrs. Norris.

"Students out of bed, my sweet?"

Filch sounded far too close for Harry's liking-probably coming up the corridor.

"Luna, c'mere-" He didn't have time to think. He grabbed Luna's hand and thought as desperately as he could about the Room of Requirement and the place they were keeping Bellatrix until the door materialized before them. He heard Filch's footsteps clattering just around the corner when he pulled Luna into the room and let the door shut behind her.

"This is the Room of Lost Things, isn't it?"

"Luna, I need you to keep a secret. It's very, very important." He thought for a second that maybe he could get away without telling her-that maybe they could hide, for just a few moments until Filch passed by, and then leave the room...he could make up some story to keep Luna from thinking the DA was back...but he felt horrible inside about betraying Luna's trust like that. Hadn't she risked her life to try and save Sirius, a man she thought, up until Harry told her otherwise, was a convicted killer? And hadn't she initiated the publishing of the interview that brought so many over to Harry's side about Voldemort being back when all the other papers sided with the Ministry?

"I'm alright at keeping secrets, I suppose. I would tell you some of the best ones I've kept-and for how long-but then I wouldn't be very good at keeping them anymore, would I?"

"No, but the thing is...Ron, Hermione and I have been coming to this room for the past few weeks but it's not for the DA...we met someone during the last trip to Hogsmeade and we brought her here to keep her safe, because right now, if she leaves this room-or if anyone knows she's here-she'll die and the lot of us will likely be expelled-and probably arrested, honestly."

"Arrested? For trying to keep someone safe-who is it? Is it that witch the Ministry of Magic has been threatening because she's been accusing Rufus Scrimgeor of being a vampire? Because that's not an accusation, Harry, that's true." Luna was starting to move down the rows of shelves as she spoke, glancing at this and that hidden there by centuries of Hogwarts students.

"No-no, it's nothing like that. This is someone who has done a lot of bad things, but she doesn't remember them, so right now it's like she's innocent-even though she isn't-and we don't want to remind her of any of the things in her past until we know what to do...I'm sorry, I'm not making sense, am I?" Harry cut himself off, realizing simultaneously that he was rambling and that Luna was focusing most of her attention on an ornate comb shaped like a ladybug she'd picked up off of a nearby table.

"Luna, please, this is important-"

"I know," she said, but kept on walking ahead all the same. "I don't have to be looking at you to be hearing you. Kind of like how Ron Weasley can look right at you and not hear what you're saying at all….some people are the reverse of that-oh, Bellatrix Lestrange!"

They'd walked straight through the invisible barrier around Bellatrix's little room. And there she was, looking again different than she had yet-not that Harry had expected her to still be wearing the orange dress. This time, she was sitting on the couch under the window, writing something in a little notebook bound in black leather with what appeared to be a raven's feather quill. Her hair was a little wet and hanging in a messy ponytail over one shoulder. Her robes tonight were lavender.

"Oh! You've brought someone!" Bella shut the journal and got to her feet, but looked otherwise unconcerned.

"I'm Luna. Harry says we're friends. Pleasure to meet you, Ms. Lestrange," said Luna. And with that, she held out her hand for Bella to shake. That was the surprisingly unsurprising thing about Luna. She had a way of always being able to shock you with the things that for her, were the most natural of reactions.

"The pleasure is mine, Luna-but please, if you are a friend of Harry's then you may call me Bella. The whole Ms. Lestrange bit makes me feel like some stuffy old crone. And I'm not old enough for that yet." Luna smiled and Bella had an amused glint in her eyes that seemed to indicate to Harry that she wasn't put off by the surprise new visitor. He crossed into the room and sat next to Bella on the couch while Luna sat across from them in the chair and then they were all just looking at each other.

"Would you like to play a game, Ms Bella-I imagine the boredom must get really horrid up here," said Luna.

"It does. You're very perceptive," said Bella with one eyebrow raised and (Harry thought) a curt glance over at him.

"No, Harry can sometimes just be really unobservant-part of what makes him so charming, I expect."

Harry wasn't meeting either of their eyes, but heard Bella laugh in that musical way that was so nice. "Right then. What games have you got?" he said-never knowing what to expect when it came to Luna.

"Oh, I was just thinking Exploding Snap or something. I've got a deck in my bag."

And so they played a few rounds of Exploding Snap, the wizarding card game in which players tried to choose pairs of matching cards out of a series, faster than the other players and before the cards exploded. Bella won the most, which she considered ironic because while she couldn't remember the past several years of her life, she could remember where all the cards featuring Hebridean Blacks were when they were all upside down in a lineup. Harry singed part of an eyebrow lunging for a matched pair of Hungarian Horntail cards that exploded in his face, and Luna seemed too preoccupied with studying the artwork on the cards and their apparent symbolism to be concerned with matching any at all.

Eventually though, this too got boring, and then they were all looking at each other in silence again.

"Wrackspurts got you?" Harry had to admire Luna's nerve.

"What?" asked Bella.

"Wrackspurts! They're invisible creatures that float around and make your brain go fuzzy!"

"Well that makes sense, then...my brains been all sorts of fuzzy lately," she replied, with that amused look in her eyes again.

"I've got tarot, too-if you'd like a reading. The cards are great for helping you gather your thoughts," said Luna, who then proceeded to pull another, distinctly different, deck of cards out of her bag. She took them out of a battered purple box that had a mermaid on the front of it.

"Oh come on," Harry couldn't help but scoff. "You're learning that rubbish in Trelawney's class, aren't you?

"Oh no, I've got Firenze this year-and besides, this is different. It's a special deck, left to me by my mother and it's not nice of you to call it rubbish just because you may not understand it yet."

"Oh Harry, let up. It's all in good fun and besides, what harm can it do if I don't remember hardly anything about my past anyway? Anything that might give me answers, I'll take. Even this."

Luna slipped the cards out of their box and began shuffling them like a pack of playing cards. She split the them into four piles in a horizontal row and a fifth pile isolated from the others. She flipped them over one by one to reveal the top card on each.

"This Court card...this is you, Miss Bella. It's the Queen of Wands. The Queen of Fire." Luna pointed to the top card on the fifth pile...a woman with dark hair in an orange dress. Bella in her orange dress on Halloween.

"And this one represents your recent past. We've got the seven of swords-that's betrayal-and that's the eight of swords-that's some sort of oppression and interference-see how the swords in the picture are all crossing each other? This is probably because of what happened to you-you lost your memories-someone you trusted took them from you and now you feel trapped, not by Harry or the Room of Lost things, but by the situation. You don't know what to do and you feel a little helpless...hence the crossed swords." Bella looked down at the cards and frowned.

"But over here in the center...Here's where you are currently," Luna continued. "The 10 of Cups. Satiety. You're happy right now, you feel like you belong here with us." 10 golden goblets overflowing with light, set against a red and orange background.

"And this one here on the end is for the near future-ace of cups. That's new beginnings-especially for new relationships-look at how the cup in the picture looks like it's exploding out the top with all different colors and patterns? My mother always liked that card. She told me it means the way into the soul...that part of us that sees beauty and trust in other people."

"Your mother told you that?" asked Bella. Something about her changed just then. There was a sort of...intensity and power about her that was off-putting. It reminded Harry of that night at the Ministry and he put his hand around the handle of his wand just in case he needed to draw it quickly.

"She did." Luna nodded as she started to pack the cards back into their box.

"You must have a good mother," said Bellatrix.

"I did have a good mother. At least, I think I did."

"Did? What happened to her?"

"She passed away when I was nine. She was the Queen of Cups whenever we pulled the cards...very artistic and did a lot of inventing...one day, one of her invented spells went badly wrong...and…" Luna trailed off. Harry watched the interaction between them, but neither woman said anything for a good long while. Everyone was thinking. And then…

"What, has the wrackspurt got you?" said Bella with a thin smile, and they all laughed until Luna got to her feet.

"Well, as I'm sure Mr. Filch is gone and you two probably want some time alone-I'm going to get going. And don't worry. I won't give away your secret-I can tell that Harry really cares about you."

"Luna...are you sure? I can walk you out, if you'd like," said Harry. He knew how hard it was for him to talk about his own parents or about Sirius when the topic was thrown on him so unexpectedly. He couldn't imagine it was any easier for her.

"Thanks, but I know the way. Could we maybe hang out again? It was nice. Like being with friends." This was another of those sentiments that Luna often expressed to which Harry never knew how to respond.

"I am your friend, Luna," he said.

"And I guess I'm your friend, too...for what it's worth given the fact that Harry's other friends seem to be afraid of me for reasons I don't even understand. Maybe I used to be really horrible and terrifying before all this...Maybe I still am." Bella said it all with an air of total sarcasm and jest, but she was so close to the truth it was making Harry nervous. How much _did_ she know? And could Ron be right? Could she really have been playing them all along, just waiting for the right moment to strike? If Luna was thinking the same thing, she didn't show it.

"Don't pay attention to other people, then. Just trust yourself. And for what it's worth, I think you're a good person, Ms. Bella. And you're really very pretty. You've got thestral eyes."

"Harry, is everything alright? You're awfully quiet. I was just saying you should bring her again...it was fun." After Luna left, Bella had actively tried to start conversations with Harry, but he couldn't shake the feeling that perhaps he'd gotten himself and his classmates into a situation more complicated than anything they'd faced before...and he had no escape plan if things got out of control except going to the staff who would go to the Aurors and the Ministry..which would land he, Ron and Hermione (and now Luna, too!) in Azkaban for sure...for harboring one of the most wanted prisoners in the wizarding world…Feeding her, taking care of her, healing her wounds...

"Harry!" Bella's hand was on his shoulder. "Please. Tell me...was it something I said? Or are you still reeling about that tarot reading?"

"Why would I be reeling about that? It was about you, not me."

"Because you haven't looked me in the eye since she pulled those cards...you're acting just like Ron and Hermione...all skittish, keeping one hand on your wand like I'm going to hurt you any second...I want to know why! Why am I trapped her...being held prisoner by... _children..._ while half my damn body is cut open and huge gaps of my life are just _missing_ from my memory...just...why?!" She took a deep breath and tried to lean her head against Harry's shoulder, but he quickly shook her off.

"What do you want to be that close to me for, I'm a child, remember?"

"I didn't mean that. You know I didn't mean that...You're the most mature and sincere person I've met in, you know, the memories I do have...but I am frustrated. You said you would tell me and I just...don't know how much longer I can stand to wait."


	8. Chapter 7: 3-4 November

**Chapter 7: 3-4 November**

Hermione sat with Bella the next night and Ron the night after that. The last Quidditch practice before the match against Slytherin had been nothing short of horrific. Some combination of Ron's nerves and angst about Hermione must have really been getting to him, because he failed to save every goal the Chasers aimed his way. He'd started yelling at other members of the team in his frustration and even had Demelza Robbins in tears by the end of practice.

"Ron, you're my best mate, but carry on treating the rest of them like this and I'm going to kick you off the team," Harry said on Friday night once the others had packed up and left the team locker room. But Ron merely shrugged.

"It's fine. I resign...I'm pathetic."

"You're not pathetic and you're not resigning!" shouted Harry. "You can save anything when you're on form, it's a mental problem you've got!"

"You calling me mental?"

"Yeah, maybe I am!" Harry retorted. He was trying to insight some kind of fight in his best friend, some thirst to prove himself, but Ron simply was not ambitious that way. They glared at each other for a moment, then turned toward the locker room door, his broom slung over one shoulder.

"I know you haven't got any time to find another Keeper, so I'll play tomorrow, but if we lose, and we will, I'm taking myself off the team," he said and before Harry could respond, he was walking the other way and calling over his shoulder,

"I expect I'll go and see _her._ At least then I won't have to deal with the common room tonight."

Harry nodded and continued packing up his quidditch things. He was aware that in some subconcious (or even conscious) part of his mind, he'd been trying to ignore Bellatrix. For some reason, as he drifted off to sleep at night, she was frequently the last thing on his mind...and not just concern about what she might be capable of or plans to interrogate her or use her as bait for Voldemort, as Ron and Hermione had suggested...no, his thoughts of Bellatrix were images of her. Playful and innocent, waiting for him to bring her dinner and talk about Quidditch and the gossip of the day. Dancing with her in her orange dress on Halloween. Playing Exploding Snap with her and Luna.

And sometimes, they went deeper than that and that was what scared him. Those dreams that delved into the fantastical. Waltzing with an arm around Bella's waist instead of Parvati Patil's at the Yule Ball. Caressing her face instead of Cho Chang's under a sprig of miseltoe in the Room of Requirement...then leaning closer, close enough to smell her hair and that musky shampoo she used. Feeling the arch of her high cheekbones in one hand as he pulled her face to his with the other, kissed her, tasted her on his tongue...no. He could not think this way. Why would he want to think this way? She was a monster. She killed-no. He didn't want to think about that either.

 _If by some miracle we win, I'll go and see her again_ , he told himself. And this fortunately brought his mind back on Quidditch. He did not want to lose the upcoming match; not only was it his first as Captain, but they were playing against Draco Malfoy and the Slytherin team who were always happy to use any leverage against Harry they could get. He couldn't be beaten at Quidditch by a Death Eater-even a symbolic victory would be too much, and yet, what was there to be done about Ron's nerves?

And then he remembered.

" _You don't have to use it...Ron just has to…"_

" _-think I did. Bellatrix...you're brilliant!"_

" _We Slytherins are known for tricks like that."_

Harry felt a little guilty using her idea when he wasn't speaking to her, but then again, if her trick helped Gryffindor win the match, he'd be speaking to her again anyway and then it wouldn't matter. Thinking fondly of the little bottle of Felix Felicis still locked away in his trunk, Harry decided his team might have a chance after all.

 _ **-0000-00000-00000-00000-00000-00000-00000-0000-**_

The Great Hall was a roar of sound when Harry strode to the Gryffindor table on Saturday morning. Fortunately, he'd slept signficantly better than he had been earlier in the week. Unfortunately, he'd once again dreamed about Bellatrix, her couch in the Room of Requirement, and doing a lot more than talking with her on it. Sighing at the chorus of boos and hisses from the Slytherins, he looked up at the ceiling reflecting the weather conditions outside. The sky was a cloudless, perfect blue and the rays of sunlight streaming in promised a certain degree of warmth. Honestly, they couldn't have asked for more ideal conditions.

He took a seat beside Ron, who was staring weakly into an untouched bowl of hot cereal. Gryffindors waved and cheered in their direction, but Ron ignored them.

"Cheer up, Ron!" called Lavender Brown from a few seats down. "I know you'll be brilliant!" But he ignored her, too. Eager to get Ron's mind off of Quidditch, Harry shot him a knowing look and asked as casually as he could,

"How're things with our friend?"

"Same as usual, but she...did say she's going to try and watch the bloody match from her tower. As if I need someone else seeing me humiliated," Ron said glumly.

"It's not that. She's probably just bored, I expect. You'd be bored too if you were her." _Plus she played Quidditch when she was here, maybe she wants to reminisce...or cheer for Slytherin..._ he almost said and then immediately cut himself off. He'd been so careful not to let on to anyone how well he was getting to know her. Then, his eye caught on the pitcher of pumpkin juice on the table in front of him and he refocused on the plan.

"Tea?" Harry asked Ron. "Coffee? Pumpkin juice?"

"Anything," he said, stirring absently at his cereal. A few minutes later Hermione made her way up to the table.

"How are you both feeling?" she asked.

"Fine," said Harry, who had just made a small show of tipping his little gold potion bottle over the pumpkin juice he was handing Ron. "There you go, Ron. Drink up." Ron had just raised the glass to his lips when Hermione spoke, alarmed.

"Don't drink that, Ron!"

"Why not?" Ron demanded. Hermione was now staring at Harry as though thoroughly scandalized.

"You just put something in that drink."

"Excuse me?" said Harry.

"You heard me. I saw you. You just tipped something into Ron's drink. You've got the bottle in your hand right now!"

"I don't know what you're talking about," said Harry, and he made another show of stowing the bottle into his pocket, but not without making sure Ron first caught a little glimpse of gold.

Smiling for the first time in days, Ron picked up the glass and drained it all in one gulp.

 _ **-0000-00000-00000-00000-00000-00000-00000-0000-**_

Quidditch conditions couldn't have been more ideal if Harry really had given Ron lucky potion. Along with the perfect weather, it turned out that Slytherin's best Chaser, was out of the match due to a practice injury. And, perhaps most surprisingly, Draco Malfoy had called off sick and Slytherin was playing Harper, their back-up Seeker, instead. Harry knew anything that occupied Malfoy so thoroughly as to make him miss Quidditch could mean nothing good, but he had little time to dwell on this, as the match was set to begin in just a few minutes.

"Hey…" Ron said suddenly, halfway through pulling on his Keeper's gloves and staring wide-eyed at Harry.

"What?"

"I . . . you . . ." Ron had dropped his voice, he looked both scared and excited. "My drink . . . my pumpkin juice . . . you didn't . . . ?"

But Harry said nothing except, "We'll be starting in about five minutes, you'd better get your boots on."

The Quidditch pitch seemed to shine in the sunlight when the teams stepped out onto it. Most of the school had taken a side on this notoriously competitive match, including the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws and even some of the teachers. With a sideways glance in the direction of the castle, Harry couldn't help but wonder what side _she_ was cheering for. If she could even see the match at all...

"Captains shake hands," said Madam Hooch as she got ready to release the Quaffle, Bludgers and Snitch from their crate. And after Harry nearly had his hand crushed by the new Slytherin Captain, Urquhart, she held her whistle to her lips. "Mount your brooms. On the whistle . . . three . . . two . . . one . . ."

At the shrill sound of the whistle rising above the din of the crowd, Harry kicked off from the ground and was off into the air.

He shot straight up above the pitch and began to circle the outskirts, keeping one eye out for the golden snitch and the other on that backup Slytherin Seeker, Harper, who turned out to be a scrawny fifth year boy with a face like a rat.

"Well, there they go, and I think we're all surprised to see the team that Potter's put together this year. Many thought, given Ronald Weasley's patchy performance as Keeper last year, that he might be off the team, but of course, a close personal friendship with the Captain does help. . . ." the voice of Zacharias Smith from Hufflepuff oozed out of the commentator's microphone and Harry visibly cringed. Harry had disliked from Smith about as long as they'd known each other.

"Oh, and here comes Slytherin's first attempt on goal, it's Urquhart streaking down the pitch and —Weasley saves it, well, he's bound to get lucky sometimes, I suppose. . . ."

The match continued to play on in this fashion as Harry continued his hunt for the snitch. Smith took every opportunity he could muster to say rude things about Ron, Harry and the rest of the Gryffindor team, but despite this, Ron saved every goal the Slytherins attempted and Ginny, Demelza and Dean had Gryffindor leading sixty points to zero less than an hour into the game. Harry found he was actually enjoying himself, watching them from on high as he circled. It was like all his anxiety from earlier in the week had abated and Gryffindor could do no wrong. Eventually, Harper started tailing him. This annoyed him-he sped down and back up again, dodging around the gold hoops and other players in an attempt to get the Slytherin seeker off his tail-and then he saw it. They both did.

The Snitch was speeding along high above them, glinting brightly against the clear blue sky. Harry leaned down on his Firebolt to accelerate. He was neck-to-neck with Harper. They both had their hands outstretched. Harry had the faster broom, but Harper's arms were longer...he was grabbing for the snitch.

"Oi, Harper!" yelled Harry in desperation. "How much did Malfoy pay you to come on instead of him?" Harper turned around to glare at Harry, missing the snitch, which seemed to fall right into Harry's oustretched hand.

 _ **-0000-00000-00000-00000-00000-00000-00000-0000-**_

The atmosphere in the locker room was jubilant.

"Party up in the common room, Seamus said!"

"C'mon, Ginny, Demelza!"

Harry couldn't stop grinning. Theyd' won the match. Beaten Slytherin. Ron had proven himself more than capable of being the best Keeper for the team. They were going to have a party...and then Harry was going to see Bellatrix again. He and Ron met Hermione just outside the locker room.

"I want a word with you, Harry," she said. "You shouldn't have done it. You heard Slughorn, it's illegal."

"What are you going to do, turn us in?" demanded Ron. Not in any mood for bickering, Harry rolled his eyes.

"I didn't spike Ron's drink with Felix Felicis if that's what you're on about."

"Yes you did, Harry, and that's why everything went right, there were Slytherin players missing and Ron saved everything!" Hermione exclaimed.

"I didn't," said Harry as he pulled the tiny bottle of Felix Felicis, still tightly corked, out of his jacket pocket. "I wanted Ron to think I'd done it, so I faked it when I knew you were looking." He looked at Ron. "You saved everything because you felt lucky. You did it all yourself." He pocketed the potion again.

"There really wasn't anything in my pumpkin juice?" Ron said, astounded. "But the weather's good . . . and Vaisey couldn't play.. . . I honestly haven't been given lucky potion?" Harry shook his head. Ron gaped at him for a moment, then rounded on Hermione, imitating her voice. "You added Felix Felicis to Ron's juice this morning, that's why he saved everything! See! I can save goals without help, Hermione!"

"I never said you couldn't — Ron, you thought you'd been given it too!" But Ron had already stormed off into the sunset.

"Er," said Harry awkwardly, "shall . . . shall we go up to the party, then?"

"You go!" said Hermione, blinking back tears. "I'm sick of Ron at the moment, I don't know what I'm supposed to have done. . . ." Not wanting anything to dampen his good mood, Harry went up to the party alone.

 _ **-0000-00000-00000-00000-00000-00000-00000-0000-**_

Music thudded on in the background when Harry slipped through the portrait hole into the Gryffindor common room. The victory party was already in full swing. Two tables draped in Gryffindor tapestries were brimming with drinks-butterbeer, firewhisky, rum punch and a variety of sweet italian sodas. Ginny and Dean lingered there, each with drinks in hand. Harry could scarcely join them, however, before the Creevey brothers appeared on either side of him begging for a match analysis and his signature on a few of the polaroid shots they'd taken. Then, he had to shake off a group of fifth year girls who were already drunk and offering to get him shots.

At last, he extricated himself from Romilda Vane, who was hinting heavily that she would like to go to Slughorn's Christmas party with him. As he was ducking toward the drinks table, he walked straight into Ginny, who was smirking and looking at something off by the fireplace.

"Have you seen Ron?" she asked. "He's over there, the filthy hypocrite." Harry followed her eyes to the squashiest armchair by the fire, where, in full view of the whole room, Ron was wrapped so closely around Lavender Brown it was hard to tell whose hands were whose.

"It looks like he's eating her face, doesn't it?" said Ginny casually. "But I suppose he's got to refine his technique somehow. Good game, Harry." She helped herself to another drink and walked off back into the fray of the party. Hermione was going to be furious, Harry thought. He considered looking for her, making sure she was okay (though perhaps she didn't even know yet)...but then another thought crossed his mind-one that didn't involve any drama...he had to make right with her, thank her properly for her idea about the felix felicis...With a renewed sense of bravado, Harry eyed the drink table more thoroughly, wondering just what she might like best.

 _ **-0000-00000-00000-00000-00000-00000-00000-0000-**_

Harry was more than a little drunk when he finally went up to see Bella that evening. After briefly looking around for Hermione and not finding her, he'd indulged himself in a butterbeer and a few shots with the team-one because they'd won, one because Ron and Lavender finally went off to hook up, and another just because it was Saturday.

"Harry?" He heard her before he saw her, just as he rounded on her little section of the Room of Requirement and his hand tightened slightly on the bottle of firewhiskey he was holding when he finally noticed her.

She was perched on the windowsill, which had magically extended itself so she could stretch out comfortably, looking out over the grounds in a white silk nightgown. Her long black curls were pulled in a loose ponytail over her left shoulder and Harry thought she looked prettier like this than she had even on Halloween. There was a certain softness to her, especially compared to the woman in black at the Ministry of Magic last summer...it was her, he couldn't forget that, but yet at the same time it really wasn't.

Harry set the firewhiskey down on the bedside table and pulled himself up on the windowsill beside her.

"We won! Bella! We won!" he exclaimed, throwing his arms around her as he did so. He could feel the alcohol pulsing through him. "And Ron and Lavender hooked up. And now I am here...with the most beautiful lady in this castle."

"You flatter me," she whispered, but she smiled all the same as they pulled apart.

"You deserve to be flattered. You're beautiful. And I have been thinking about you all day," he could hear the words tumbling out of his mouth before he could stop them, but he also found it didn't matter.

"Did you see the match?" he asked.

"Bits...who was that idiot they had doing the commentary?"

"A moron from Hufflepuff no one can stand."

"Is there anyone from Hufflepuff who isn't a moron?" Her remark may have been rude, but her eyes glinted in that mischievous way that let him know she was only joking. Feeling the alcohol continue to course through him, Harry launched into telling her about the match-all about the successful trick with the luck potion, Ron's amazing saves, his race with Harper to the snitch (though he did drag this bit out a little to make his catch seem more spectacular than it actually was) and he was just getting to the part about his and Ron's confrontation with Hermione before the party when suddenly, he stopped.

He looked at Bellatrix, feeling like time had frozen for a moment as he fully appreciated how beautiful she really was. Her eyes, like warm amber watching him, flashing with amusement as he told her about all the things that in hindsight now seemed childish. Her nightgown was loose and flowing, slipping dangerously over cleavage like it was threatening to expose her, but wouldn't. Her lips, pursed in that sarcastic pout he used to despise. It felt like the room was getting hotter, pressing in on him, pushing him into one of those dreams he resented having but enjoyed all the same-Then his lips were on hers, and surprisingly, she fell into the kiss, even parting her lips to allow him access.

It was like kissing Cho, only magnified. All of his senses were heightened, had he ever felt so alive, so real?

Then, suddenly, Bellatrix pulled away. She shoved Harry aside and slid back to her own end of the windowsill.

"No," she said sharply. "None of that until you tell me what the hell has been going on."

 **A/N: Well, looks like there's no getting around it. He really has to tell her now...though how will he broach such a difficult topic? And how will she react?**


	9. Chapter 8: 5 November

**Chapter 8: 5 November**

 **A/N: I was going to save this part for the beginning of another, much bigger chapter 8, but then I got excited and decided I want to post it out. Plus, I figured two updates in a night is much deserved by all y'all who've been patiently waiting on me to update =) I hope you like it!**

Her eyes looked almost steely now as she glared at him and all Harry wanted to do was hold her again. Though just as much of him wanted to run from her and turn her in. She looked so much like the old Bellatrix in that moment-powerful in no way good.

"Fine," he heard himself say flatly as he got down from the windowsill. "I'll tell you what I know, but I'm having another drink first." Bellatrix rolled her eyes and crossed her legs.

"If you say so. And I will drink as well if that would make things more comfortable." Harry didn't answer her, but he did notice two frosty tumblers materialize next to the bottle of firewhiskey from the party.

He poured their drinks and once they were situated back on thw windowsill (side-by-side, but not touching) Harry really tried to give thought to what he should tell her...and how. He remembered when Hagrid first broached the topic of Voldemort to him as a child and decided to start there.

"There was once a wizard who went...about as bad as any wizard can go. You were only a child when he started to become powerful," he began as he took a deep swig of his firewhiskey.

"He was basically going around making deals and killing people to gain more power." Harry was trying to sum up all the horror of Voldemort as concisely and vaguely as he could, as if he was talking to a child, the same way Hagrid had first spoken of the evil wizard. Harry knew Bellatrix was not a child, but he was terrified of what might happen if her memories of Voldemort returned to her, especially if she remembered her devotion to him. But if Bellatrix did remember anything, she didn't show any signs of it.

"I remember my parents going to these meetings, sometimes holding them at our house when I was home on school breaks...there were a lot of men in really nice robes smoking cigars. They would get drunk sometimes and say vulgar things to my sisters and I until we went up to bed," she said rather dreamily and took a rather large sip of drink, shivering when she swallowed it.

"And...I don't know why you did it…" Harry went on. "Maybe you wanted to be powerful, too. Maybe you wanted to make your parents proud because they supported him...Maybe you were just scared, but you joined him and ended up getting closer to him than anyone."

"Yes...my middle sister and I had a row about something while she was still in school and I was fresh out...she didn't want me to do whatever I was doing and I didn't approve of the man she wanted to marry...bit stupid, really...but if what you say is true, then the row must have started over that." She shut her eyes in solemn reflection, but Harry forced himself to go on, hoping to say enough to satiate her so that they'd never have to talk about this again.

"The things you did for him were... _fucking horrible_...but you did them and eventually he was defeated and you went to prison...as a...war criminal." He didn't tell her Voldemort was back. He didn't mention anyone by name. Didn't tell her she'd tortured the Longbottoms into insanity or that she'd killed Sirius...or even that Voldemort killed his parents...he just made it out like she'd committed some petty crimes, maybe killed a few unknown strangers...because he didn't know what would happen to either of them if he told her the whole truth.

She didn't say anything for a while. Just kept on sipping at her drink and refilling it when her glass was empty. Harry felt the weight of all he _had_ told her beginning to press in on him. The magnitude of her knowing _anything_ would always be too great, Hermione had said.

"And...then what?" Bellatrix said finally. She was getting a little drunk, Harry realized. Her eyes were getting glassy, less intimidating and her speech was a bit slurred. He on the other hand, felt like he was sobering Perhaps it was the adrenaline of all this.

"Then nothing," he said. "Hermione, Ron and I found you all beat up in Hogsmeade with your memories gone...maybe you escaped from prison, maybe someone took you, your guess is as good as any of ours. But since none of us know, we've been keeping you here. If you go out, you'll just get arrested again or worse, killed by whoever tried to hurt you in the first place." _Or worse,_ he'd said. And he found with mixed anxiety and warmth, that he hadn't lied to her. He did not want Bellatrix Lestrange to die... _no, you don't want Bella to die...Bellatrix Lestrange can die and stay dead, just like Sirius..._

"Are...are you t-trying to find out?" she hiccuped, interrupting his thoughts.

"Find out what?"

"Who wants to hurt me. I can't stay here forever-I can ta-take care of...myself." She drank the last of the firewhiskey straight out of the bottle and then set it down shakily beside her.

"I know that, but...I'm scared for you," Harry admitted. " _I_ don't want anything bad to happen to you."

"Wh...why? I though' you said I was some kinda criminal?" she slurred again as she said this and Harry put his arm around her small frame so she wouldn't slip off the windowsill.

"Okay. Well, what if there was a person you met who you knew had done a lot of bad things, and then you met the same person again and they were really kind?"

"Hmmmmm," she murmured and slumped against him. "Harry...have we met before?"

"It doesn't matter," he said quickly. She could never find out about what happened at the Ministry. There was a part of him that knew this intrinsically.

"D...does matter."

"I think that's enough for one night. You should get some rest." He guided her off the windowsill and over towards her bed.

"No. Stay." She surprised him by snaking her hand around one of his wrists.

"I was planning to stay."

"No. I mean stay-with me-not on the bloody couch." Then he realized what she was implying. As with everything involving Bella, he knew it was a bad idea-but he was exhausted and starting to get a headache-meanwhile, her bed was looking especially comfortable. With a sigh of resignation, Harry helped her under the blankets and then slipped into bed beside her.

Bellatrix Lestrange was spooning against him almost immediately. But Harry didn't know what to do with his arms. It couldn't possibly be comfortable for her to have his left arm tucked under the crook of her neck like that, so he slid it under one of the pillows supporting her head. Meanwhile, he kept his right arm pressed firmly to his side in case he needed to draw his wand in a hurry...not that he thought he'd need to. Judging by the even tone of her breathing, he could have sworn Bellatrix was already asleep. Then he felt her stir.

"Someone was in here today," she said drowsily. His left arm tightened around her from under its pillow.

"What?!"

"I couldn't see them of course, but someone was here in the room of requirement...rummaging around like they were looking for something."

"Or hiding something. Bella, I need you to tell me if you ever hear anyone up here again, alright?"

"Mhmmm," she sighed and curled up further into him so that her back was against his chest and he felt a rush of electricity in his lower body. As complicated as this situation was, he'd been thinking about this woman for weeks and now here he was beside her, holding her. Mere hours after winning a Quidditch match. His best friend was finally getting laid. And in the midst of all these pleasant things, the worrying could wait another day.


End file.
